


The Rake's Progress

by dontlikehugs18



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Flirting (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Footnotes, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kinda, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The Fall (Good Omens), autumn vibes, baby's first GO fanfic, isn't tagging fun guys!, there is a fall and autumn but not Falling, title is a literary pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27482194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontlikehugs18/pseuds/dontlikehugs18
Summary: The Husbands enjoy a brisk autumn day outside. Crowley attempts seductive leaf raking. This goes about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	The Rake's Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first foray into (completed, published) GO fanfic. Inspired by a comment thread in the Good Omemes Facebook group.

On crisp autumn days, Aziraphale would take his tea and a book into the back garden of their South Downs cottage. He'd settle on his fussily placed bench, angled just so to catch the light the way he wanted, and wrap up in a warm tartan throw left folded on the back of the bench for this purpose. The crystal clear sky and breeze with its tiniest nip of winter would keep him company until he lost the light, finished his book, or got peckish, whichever came first. 

On this particular day, he had more company than the breeze and sky, Crowley had decided it was high time to Do Something about the state of the garden. Couldn't have the trees getting complacent, thinking they could shed leaves just anywhere, and Somebody knew the roses were trying to slack off just because it was slightly colder than they'd like. No, this insubordination wouldn't do.

So, Aziraphale casually watched between pages as the demon prowled the garden, hedge clippers in hand, hissing admonitions to the formerly flowering bushes, growling curses at the hedges, and nearly shouting at the trees. With one final pointed gesture at the roses with the hedge clippers and a glareful glare for good measure, Crowley's tirade faded to silence as he began to work to prepare the more temperature sensitive plants for the coming frost. With an angelic eye roll and sigh, Aziraphale settled the throw around himself more snugly and got back to his book. 

The quiet, calm of the garden was broken by the loud, sudden snap of two demonic fingers clicking together. Aziraphale marked his page with his finger and looked up, over his for-the-aesthetic-only reading glasses, to the satisfied demon standing amongst miraculously tidily pruned perennials.

"Crowley," he admonished in a low, but carrying voice. Crowley stiffened briefly, then slouched as he swung to face the angel.

"Awwwwww, c'mon Aziraphale. Nobody's looking. I checked." It was practically a whine, if a respectable demon like Crowley was capable of such a debasing thing as whining.[ **1**]

"My dear, we've talked about this. We're supposed to be making an effort[ **2**] to do things in a more human way. I've already had to answer several of Mrs. Johnson's questions this week. And especially now that your lovely trees are bare," he powered on, ignoring Crowley's protests about spoiling the plants, "there's very little out here to block us from prying eyes."[ **3**]  


Crowley sighed the world weary sigh of someone who's had this argument several times and is going to have it, and lose, again for the principle of the thing. "Yes, angel, we have talked about this and I've told you, if I do this the human way it's going to take all bloody day and then who'll take you out to dinner, eh? Couple quick snaps and this is all done and we can head off to that new spot in town you found last week." He titled his sunglasses down and offered a winning smirk to the angel. 

"Oh I did like their creme brulee," Aziraphale sighed dreamily. Crowley's smirk widened and he poised his fingers to finish miracling the garden to perfection. "But, desserts will have to wait. We've got to stop arousing suspicion with the neighbors. So human way it is."

Crowley's face fell into an abyss of indignation. "Well, that's easy for you to say. All you've got to do is make sure you close the curtains before staying up all night and put on a show of washing up or going to the shops. This is a bleeding garden for Somebody's sake. This is work. Actual, real work." The indignation was battling the absolutely-not-whining for dominance in Crowley's voice and Aziraphale could only tolerate so much stalling and arguing. There were homemade desserts on the line after all. 

With as much nonchalance as he could summon, Aziraphale met Crowley's eyes and made him an offer he couldn't refuse. "I'd so hate for something to happen to your girls. Be awfully unfortunate, wouldn't it, if they disappeared, never to be seen again." He held back a snicker at the open dismay on Crowley's face.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, but I would. Human way, or you can say goodbye to your friends. Won't even have time to thank them, even."

"You leave Blanche, Rose, Dorothy, and Sophia out of this." Crowley's voice broke in the face of his mounting horror at the depths of Aziraphale's depravity. Aziraphale merely hummed the Golden Girls theme quietly, while maintaining direct eye contact. "You...you utter bassssstard." Crowley threw his hands in the air and dramatically stomped off to the shed where he kept his gardening tools.

Picking up his book again, with a smug smile pulling at his mouth, Aziraphale set to finishing the chapter and his still-at-the-perfect-temperature tea[ **4**], all with the ambient noise of grumbling, disgruntled demon clanging tools obnoxiously.  


After a while, the light had shifted to an unappealing angle and Aziraphale was forced to put down his book. Crowley was now raking leaves. The manual labor had burned through his ire and he was now giving the garden the same single minded focus he did to the M-25 or bringing down the London mobile network. Aziraphale watched as the demon worked carefully and conscientiously gathering leaves into manageable piles, separating the sticks out for kindling. 

The domesticity and quiet love of the moment hit him all at once. Who'd have ever thought they'd be here? A cottage out of the city. A back garden that needed tending. The two of them together, soaking in a beautiful autumn afternoon in their own particular way. How fortunate. How wonderful. How ineffable the path to this time right now. The angel gave a little sigh of contentment as he watched Crowley begin to awkwardly rake leaves onto a shovel to transfer them to the compost bin. 

Crowley glanced over at him and something of the happiness and love must have shown on the angel's face because he gave a soft smile himself before deciding it was high time Aziraphale pay strict attention to him, specifically. Pretending to ignore the angel, Crowley put a little more effort[ **5**] into his work. He made sure the lines of his body flowed just so as he bent and twisted to gather more leaves. Made sure the sway of his hips was a little more pronounced as he strolled to the compost bin. Made sure to sweep his hair back dramatically so it caught the light the way he knew made him look particularly cool. Crowley could feel Aziraphale's gaze like a physical touch on his skin. Those blue eyes following every ebb and flow of his movements.

He waited until the last pile to unleash his coup de grace, while still trying not to look awkward as hell scraping leaves into a shovel and hauling his tools and some slightly damp, limp foliage across the garden. He could feel the intensity of his angel's focus on his back as he walked away, putting just a touch more swing in his saunter. He turned his head, looked over his glasses, made eye contact with his besotted angel, and winked with a wicked smirk on his face. 

He had precisely five glorious seconds to enjoy the rising flush in Aziraphale's cheeks, before the toe of his shoe[ **6**] caught a wayward tree root and Crowley lost control of his corporation. Dead leaves scattered like confetti as his arms, full of rake and shovel, tried to spiral to catch his balance. His caught foot unstuck and landed too hard, tilting him further off center. Before he knew it, there was nowhere to go but down, face first, into the bin.

Aziraphale was treated to the sight of two black clad legs, bookended by the handles of a rake and shovel, sticking straight out of the compost bin. What started as a humming titter became a snicker and then an all out giggle, as Aziraphale unwrapped himself from his blanket and came to his demon's rescue. 

"Are you all right, dear boy?" he asked, smothering his laughter as much as he could. 

A leaf and plastic muffled reply that could've been, "I'd be better if I was out of the bin and we didn't mention this ever again to save my dignity" but really sounded like "ah mhmmmhmmm mmmmmhmm aahmmhmmaamm," was his answer. 

With gentle hands at Crowley's hips, a small heave and a snakey wriggle, the demon was free. He was a disheveled mess now and the furthest thing from the seductive creature he'd been trying to be. His sunglasses were crookedly hanging off one ear, his hair somehow had a stick wound into it, there was a smidge of dirt on his cheek and there were leaves plastered to him everywhere. 

"Angel, there are leaves IN my shirt… and somehow in my pockets. How did they even get in my pockets?" He gave Aziraphale the mournful, despairing look of the dreadfully uncool. 

"Oh Crowley," sighed Aziraphale in the way that parents of precocious children do after investigating a suspicious silence. "I suppose we'll have to skip dinner out with you a mess like this."

"Aw, no, angel. I can clean up." Crowley haphazardly attempted to brush leaves off himself and straighten his glasses. 

"No, it's quite all right, my dear. You did wonderful work out here today and you were right, it did take longer than I thought. So I was thinking we could stay in. Maybe watch your show." As he spoke he linked arms with Crowley to guide him carefully back to the house. Crowley kept an eye out for any more surprise tree roots. He'd be having words with the trees later about proper root placement. 

"I knew you wouldn't actually harm my Golden Girls." Crowley grinned down at him.

"Yes, well, it wasn't an idle threat, you know," Aziraphale said, unconvincingly. "We do have to try to do things the human way." Crowley waved a dismissive hand. Aziraphale ignored it. They'd be having this argument again soon enough. 

"You know, angel, I've never thanked you for being a friend."

"Crowley…"

"You're a real pal. A confidant even."

"You exasperating thing."

Crowley threw his head back in a laugh as the two finally headed inside arm in arm. 

**Gratuitous Footnotes**

**1** He wasn't. Promise, on his dishonor. [return to text]

 **2** Not like that... [return to text]

 **3** Or prying binoculars as was the case with Mrs. Johnson, who'd taken a particular interest in her new neighbors down the way. There was something odd, she'd decided, about them that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she was sure if she squinted out her window enough, she'd figure it out eventually. In the weeks to come, she'd have a quiet epiphany and be heard mumbling, "but I thought they were just good friends." [return to text]

 **4** Doing things in the human way only applied to large, visible miracles after all [return to text]

 **5** Again, not like that, though he is tiptoeing that line... [return to text]

 **6** Maybe they're shoes, maybe not. Crowley certainly isn't telling. [return to text]


End file.
